


Rewind

by pieceofhamiltrash



Category: American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex is there too, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Burr isn't though, Hamilton - Freeform, Lams - Freeform, M/M, Madison Monroe Adams and Washington are also members, he wishes, jefferson is the leader of Law Student Fuckboys, sorry i start it off with it saying alex is dead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 23:40:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6587866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pieceofhamiltrash/pseuds/pieceofhamiltrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After he finds a letter addressed to him among Alexander's things, John remembers the times when Alexander was still with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all this fanfic is also posted on my wattpad account (which has the same user as this account) just to make sure no one gets confused. happy reading!

It had been five months, five long, terrible months since Alexander had left him. In those five months, John had passed his lover's desk everyday; Alexander's countless papers strewn across its face and his favorite pen laying, uncapped, waiting for its owner to return and finish the draft he was writing. But, he wasn't coming back. Everything he had started would never be finished, including his life with John.

It took John these five long, terrible months to work up the courage to arrange the papers on Alexander's desk. Alex always hated when people touched his papers or messed with their order, something John had learned quickly, but if he wasn't coming back, what was the harm? He capped his pen and put it in the drawer. He flipped up the top of the desk to sort through the insane amount of papers covered in Alexander's scrawly hand that filled the space. Fighting back tears, tears he didn't even know he still had, he eventually reached the hard oak of the desk, signifying the end of the papers.

John's eyes now burned with tears as he sat on the ground with papers in his lap. He did not bother to wipe them away, his tears had been his tragic companion for the last five months. He let them fall, raining on Alexander's writings; they smeared his words as they flowed down the pages, forming small rivers of ink.

Standing back up, John looked at the inside of Alexander's desk. Something panged his already broken heart as he understood the gravity of the desk's current state of emptiness. As he picked the stacks of sorted papers from the floor and moved to put them back inside the desk, he noticed a small knob off the the side of the desk's cavity. With his empty hand, he tugged the knob and a small drawer revealed itself. He heard the papers in his other hand strike the ground and flow out around him.

Inside the drawer sat a envelop with John's name on it, written in Alexander's best cursive.


	2. Alexander's Letter

It took John two more weeks to build up the strength the open the letter. For two weeks it sat, like it had in the many months since Alexander had put it there, in its drawer while John's emotions swirled. His unwavering sadness surged as he thought of the message, but he also experienced a feeling that could parallel happiness as he realized he would get to hear from Alexander one last time. He ripped open the envelop, eager to experience Alexander's gift for words one last time.

My Dearest John,

Currently, you are sleeping next to me. I find myself unable to sleep, for there are a thousand thoughts flowing through my mind, but I do not have the strength to wake you up, so I am writing my thoughts down in this letter. I will attempt to write this without waking you...

I never want you to forget to how deep my love for you is. For all the words I know, I do not know any that will allow me to rightly express the depths of my feelings for you, John. It frustrates me how you somehow manage to silence me. I always have words, but never enough for you; you, for whom I have so much to say, but no way to say it. I will try to say it all.

Firstly, I love every bit of you. I love your freckles, you know I do. I love your crazy, curly hair. I love that smirk you give me when I say something exceptionally stupid. I love the way your eyes light up, like they most likely are now, when I tell you I love you. Gosh, John, you are so beautiful. You really are. I admit I may be slightly biased...

I love your hands. This may sound like an odd thing to be saying, but I love hands. Hands are our outlet to the universe. We feel the surrounding world with them. We use our hands to express the thoughts and ideas bundled up inside our brains. And your hands are especially nice. And I love holding them. John, you better believe I would hold your hand till the world ended if I were able to.

I love that you put up with every part of me, every broken edge and every rounded side. You always tell me it is your privilege to deal with me. You tell me you love every single part of me, and you make me actually believe it.

I love the way you smell. You probably laughed at that, but it's true. You smell like the vanilla in your shampoo, that eucalyptus air freshener you spray everywhere, and something like old books. But mostly, John, you smell like home.

Which leads me to what I really wanted to say: you are home. A few days ago, I found myself desperately wanting to go home, to Nevis, and I almost bought a ticket without telling you. As much as my memories from my childhood haunt me, I find myself longing for the places where the memories were made. But then I realized, I am home. I was home the day I met you. My home is where you are, John, not matter on Earth we may find ourselves. My place in the universe is where I get to be with you.

I struggle with time, John. I pray I will have enough time with you. I pray our time does not run out too quickly. With our story just beginning, our lives ahead of us, I am hit with the realization that I only know endings. Nothing in my life has lasted as long as it should have. Again, I find myself without the words to explain how I really feel. All I know is I pray, my love, that we last.

I never want to leave you.

And I am unable to fathom you leaving me.

Everything that I have ever wanted, and everything I never knew I needed, manifests itself in you, John. You are my universe.

As I write this, it almost brings me to tears trying to unravel everything I feel for you. My mind fails me, my hand fails me, my pen fails me when I think of you, you, you... You will never understand because I am unable to help you understand. For now, you must put up with my late night, coffee induced ramblings on how much I love you, Johnny.

You know, I find myself watching you as the day passes. You charm everyone you meet, you always hold the attention of whatever room you're in. John, you have this amazing gift of making everyone you meet fall in love with you, something I myself have succumbed to. As your energy lights up a room, I smile to myself...because you chose me. Me, Alexander, who's only real friends are a piece of paper and a pen; me, abrasive, annoying, hot-tempered me. I am the lucky bastard that gets to fall asleep next to you, that gets to hold your hand, and that gets to kiss your forehead. So many people in this world, and you, the greatest person I have ever met in my entire life, chose me.

I guess what I am trying to say is thank you, John. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for rescuing my from myself. Thank you for keeping me safe. Thank you for knocking me down that one day in that coffee shop.

One more thing, I forgot to mention earlier how much I love your mind. You have the most beautiful mind I have ever encountered. Your mind has changed my outlook on the world; I now know love and joy and kindness thanks to your brain. You always seem to have the right words, always. No matter the situation, you know what to say or what not to say. (I would appreciate it greatly if you were able to teach me this).

I thank the Lord daily that he led me to you.

If this letter finds it way into your hands, just know: I love you, John, entirely, truly, deeply, and madly.

Eternally yours,

Alexander

John quietly folded the letter up when he reached the end. He was numb. He hadn't been prepared for what Alexander had written that night in his scrawly rushed hand. His mind was reeling, trying to process what he had just read. Not even his tears would come as he stood in anguish. He stuffed the letter back into its envelop and noticed it was dated from over a year previous. He pressed his back against the wall and slowly sunk to the floor. John closed his eyes, placing his head in his hands as he thought back to better times - times with Alexander.


	3. Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which john and alex meet for the first time and alex is sorta a dick

John smiled to himself as the soft sunshine of mid-April warmed his face as he exited the building that housed Columbia University's biology department where he had just finished up an morning class. His ears were bombarded with the sounds of the city - people conversing, shouting, laughing, cars honking their horns, distant sirens, and he could even pick out the drums of a street performer floating in the air. His thoughts wandered to where he was going to grab his daily coffee and lunch combo before returning to his apartment to work on a research paper he was writing for school.

On a whim, John took an impulsive turn down a street that took him to a little cafe near Columbia's law school. He remembered something a buddy of his had said when he told John about this particular shop: "great lattes and great law students to look at," he had said with a cheeky wink. Arriving at the door, he pushed it in and stepped into the building. Instantly, he felt out of place among the nicely dressed, well-to-do law student types that filled the cafe. Walking up to the counter to order, John caught snippets of their conversations, which included "the rising debt ceiling" and "diplomatic relations with Israel" among more typical college student things like "I am freaking out about this casenote assignment!"

Now with his caramel mocha in his hands, John made his way to a small wooden table in the back corner of the cafe; from this new vantage point, he was able to observe everything happening around him. His eyes passed over people furiously typing away on their laptops and groups of girls socializing with friends in between class. Eventually, his eyes rested on a group of boys, presumably law students, gathered around a small table, some sitting and some standing. John took in their clean, wrinkle free Oxford shirts, sweaters, and blazers, their pressed formal pants, and their shiny loafers. John chuckled lightly to himself, making a mental note to wear a suit and tie if he ever decided to frequent this particular cafe again, not the dark-wash jeans, plain red t-shirt, and dim white converse he was currently outfitted in.

As he scanned the bow-tie wearing, briefcase carrying group of law students, his gaze fell upon one of the boys. He was standing to the side of the group, his arms crossed, obviously engaged in a deep discussion with two others that stood in front of him. John couldn't help but notice the subtle, yet obvious, differences that separated him from his companions. For one John could tell the boy's green button up was not ironed and his pants had not been pressed. Furthermore, he wore his black hair long and had it tied back into a ponytail, a stark contrast to the rest of the groups cropped and neatly styled cuts. But, most of all, this boy stuck out to John because of his shoes. They were not polished like the other boys; John could see the scuffs, even from his position across the room. John remembered his grandfather always telling him, "You can always judge a man by his shoes," and John was willing to bet scuffed-shoes boy didn't come from the same background as his friends and probably had to work a hundred percent harder because of it.

Taking the last sip of his coffee as stood up and pushed in his chair, John made his way to the trashcan across the room. In one swift motion, he dropped his empty coffee cup into the opening, spun around, and ran straight into the scuffed-shoes boy, who was now sitting on the floor staring up at John, a topless coffee cup in his hand. Upon further inspection, John realized the contents of the cup had found their way to the front of scuffed-shoes boy's green button up. "Oh shit, Hamilton!" John heard one of scuffed-shoes boy's buddy yell as the rest of the group cracked up in laughter.

"I am so sorry!" John apologized, fumbling over the words as he offered his hand to help the boy on the floor in front of him, Hamilton, John presumed his name was, up. John was flabbergasted when his hand was filled, not by Hamilton's hand, but by his empty coffee cup. Hamilton, who's tan face had a scarlet coloring rising around his cheekbones, swiftly rose from the floor on his own and strode into the bathroom at the back of the cafe, most likely to attempt to salvage his shirt. The group of law students cackled at what their friend had done. John, now thoroughly embarrassed and as red as his t-shirt, slammed the cup into the trashcan and practically ran out of the cafe.

-

"And that is why I will never venture into the stomping grounds of law students ever again," John stated. He had just finished recounting his tale of the coffee catastrophe to the boys who shared the apartment next to him. The boys, Hercules Mulligan and Marquis de Lafayette, were enrolled in Columbia like John, and they quickly had become his best friends. Hercules clamped his shoulder on John's, as he shook his head and laughed at his friend's misfortune. The couch the two boys were sitting on jolted as Lafayette plopped down and stretched his legs out onto John's coffee table; a few kernels of popcorn flew out of the bowl Lafayette held as he threw himself onto the couch. "Marquis, feet off the furniture," John attempted to chastise his friend.

"Stick to the artsy neck of the woods from now on, mon ami," Lafayette advised John while completely ignoring his demand.

"Would you please stop using French in your daily conversations?" Mulligan implored Lafayette as he shoved his feet from where they rudely rested on the coffee table.

"Hercules, do I need to remind you that my parents are French and fluent in it? They taught me the beautiful language, and I intend to honor my heritage by speaking it," Lafayette retorted in between large mouthfuls of popcorn.

"Okay, great, but you are American. You were born in Brooklyn for God's sake!" Mulligan argued, earning a laugh from John. Both the boys garnered a glare from Lafayette, who pouted and continued to shove popcorn in his mouth.

"My name is freaking Marquis de Lafayette, I get to speak French when I wanna, dammit," Lafayette mumbled under his breathe, mostly to try to get a rise out of Mulligan; which he, sadly, did not, for Mulligan disregarded him with a huff while rolling his eyes.

While Marquis absentmindedly channel flipped and Hercules rummaged through John's cabinets for more snacks to eat, John found himself thinking about Hamilton. For a reason he was not able to place his finger on, he actually could not stop thinking about the boy from the coffee shop. Although their short interaction had been fairly mortifying for John, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else behind the look of utter annoyance in Hamilton's dark eyes; something that he wanted to know.

"Yo, earth to Johnny," Marquis called, pulling John back to reality. "Whatcha thinking about?"

"I bet he's thinking about scuffed-shoes boy," Mulligan returned from the kitchen and ruffled John's curly hair.

"No, actually I wasn't, thank you very much," John hoped his friends wouldn't notice the blush creeping onto his cheeks as he lied. "And his name is Hamilton, by the way."

"Look, already defending him!" Lafayette teased.

"Literally the only thing I said was his name, Laf" John snapped back, to which Marquis put his hands into the air in a fake surrender.

"You're lying," Hercules sing-songed, "You were blushing early when you told us the story and you're blushing now," he smiled knowingly at John.

"I'm just embarrassed, that's all," John quickly made up a reasonable excuse. "And, anyways, isn't it time y'all were both returning to your own apartment?" he made sure he made a point of gesturing to the clock, which read 11:36 PM.

"I suppose," Mulligan grabbed his jacket with one hand and Lafayette with the other, pulling him from the couch towards the door.

"I see how it is: we bring up your crush and you make us leave," Lafayette jokingly complained.

"Ha ha," John deadpanned. "See you guys tomorrow," he called as his two friends walked out the door. They shouted responses as they made their way down the hallway. John sighed and closed the door. As he readied for bed, he struggled with thoughts in his head. He cursed his knack for obsessing over total strangers and getting too caught up in tiny details. Turning off his lamp and resting his head on his pillow, he decided, somehow much to his own disappointment, that he would not pursue the idea of seeing Hamilton again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be sure everyone knows, the characters in this story will look like the actors that portray them in the musical. Also, I'm not buying into the whole "Laf is a French exchange student" thing sorry lol. (not knocking it though) And Laurens is gonna be from South Carolina just like real life so he's gonna say stuff like "y'all."


	4. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which john and alex really meet

"Crap," John mumbled to himself as he spilled a bit of his caramel latte down the side of his cup and onto his hand. He was comfortably seated at his favorite table in his favorite coffee shop in Manhattan; he had decided he was going to stick to this shop for a while, and not venture too far out anymore. He rose from his seat and walked to the self service station to grab a couple of napkins and wiped down his cup and hands. As he made his way back to his table, his eyes wandered, as they usually did, around his fellow customers. "Crap," he heard himself mumbled once again. In the short time he had spent away from his table, someone had sat down at the neighboring table, and that person was none other than the boy John had had the embarrassing run-in with the previous day: Hamilton. 'Just my luck,' John sighed as he walked past Hamilton, he sipped his coffee, praying Hamilton wouldn't notice him; he was sure Hamilton would waste no opportunity to deck him in the face.

Now seated at his table, he eyed Hamilton from his new vantage point. The boy had his eyes fixed on his laptop as his hand feverishly moved over the keys. However, John was startled when he realized the boy was wearing the exact outfit he had been wearing the previous day, coffee stain and all. John was entranced with the boy, staring at him intently, trying to figure him out. Then, Hamilton looked up to take a sip from his coffee, and made eye contact with John. 'The universe must really hate me,' John thought, mentally slapping his forehead, as he heard the other boy say, "The universe must really love me."

"I have been really regretting what happened yesterday, how I acted. I had accepted the fact that I wouldn't be able to apologize, but here you are. What are the odds! So I'm sorry. I'm not usually like that. I hope I can make it up to you," Hamilton was speaking a million words a minute, obviously caught up in a caffeine-induced firestorm. Now, Hamilton was the one offering his hand to John.

John slowly took his hand and lightly shook it, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. He read Hamilton's eyes, which were a dark, swirling brown and accented by massive bags, showing Hamilton's exhausted state; John could find nothing malevolent there, only hopeful kindness, so he said, "It's fine," so soft it was almost a whisper.

"Great! My name is Hamilton. Alexander Hamilton," he flashed a goofy smile and, to John's slight annoyance, pulled his chair over to join John at his table, bring his laptop and crinkled papers with him.

"I'm, uh," John really didn't know how to answer. He decided his name was a good start. "I'm John Laurens."

"I'm sorry. For my lack of boundaries, I mean. I've been up all night, and this is my fifth double espresso since about nine last night," Alexander gestured to his cup. "But, I am also sorry for what happened yesterday."

"I said it was fine," to say John was confused would be a understatement. He was still a little weary of the disheveled boy that was sitting across from him.

"No, no, it's not fine. Please, let me explain," Alexander looked ready to launch on a tirade. John gestured with his hand, giving his permission. "I like to think I am actually a fairly alright person. Those guys I hang out with are vicious, they jump at the opportunity to tear people up. So, naturally, I had to go along with that act when you knocked me down yesterday. You see, I have to try my hardest to fit in with them because I'm different, and it helps me to be in with them. Hard to explain and it doesn't really matter, actually. I hope you don't think I'm one of those 'easily influenced' or 'fake' people. Really, I did it for you," Hamilton had been ranting to the table, not making eye contact with the boy across the table from him, but with his last sentence, he raised his head and offered John a soft smile.

John couldn't explain why, but when Alexander smiled at him, his walls crumbled. His eyebrows knitted together as he gave Alexander a quizzical look. "For me?" he asked, trying to sound more doubtful than hopeful.

"Yes, for you. I knew that if I didn't do something rude, those guys I was with would have done something ten times worse. You seem nice and all, that's it," Hamilton's excuse may have been a little lackluster, but John fell for every bit of it.

"Oh, well, thank you, I suppose," John had to raise his coffee cup to his lips and take a sip to mask the smile that was tugging at his lips. Setting his cup back onto the table, John's eyes fell onto the coffee splatter plastered on Alexanders wrinkled green button up. "And, I'm sorry for that.".

"For wha-?" Alexander's eyebrows knitted in confusion for a moment. "Oh, this!" he exclaimed after John nodded towards the stain. He pulled the bottom of his shirt to get a better look at the blotch. "It's really not bad, I just couldn't get the stain out with water and cheap coffee shop napkins."

"I assume you didn't go home last night then?" John prompted the other boy.

"No, I didn't," a small, embarrassed blush began to creep into Alexander's cheeks. "I, uh, lost the key to my apartment, and my landlord was actually out of town last night, so I couldn't get a replacement key. I'm sorry if I smell or something like that," he turned his face and raised his arm to check if he did smell. He scrunched his face up and recoiled, earning a soft laugh from Laurens. Alexander seemed taken back for a second at the fact he actually garnered a laugh from John, but his face quickly shifted into a small, but warm, smile.

The two boys shared a few moments of humorous eye contact before John broke it with a proposition. "If you wanted, I would be open to letting you use my shower, and maybe you could borrow a shirt," John couldn't believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. "Ya know, only if you wanted," he added in attempt to not sound so bold. As an afterthought, he added a smile to his offer, as well.

"No, no, I didn't mean to impose. I am fine, really," something seemed to have instantly shifted in the air as Hamilton suddenly seemed more guarded. The light that had been glowing in his eyes dimmed, and there was something that bordered on sadness in his face, John thought.  
Actually, I need to get going. I really need to finish this paper, and you are a very distracting person," Alexander began to gather his papers and pushed back in his chair to stand up. John felt himself blushing; he internally laughed at himself for being so silly, he highly doubted Alexander had meant that last comment the way John's brain wanted to take it.

"Hamilton," John semi-pleaded, catching the other boy's attention before he took off. "You said you don't have a key to your apartment, so where are you going to go? Looking like that no less," Laurens joking scoffed at Alexander's unkempt appearance.

Alexander froze at the sound of his name. As John commented on the state of his appearance, he smiled at the ground, chuckling lightly to himself. He decided to give in, as he had been trapped by his own comments. "I guess I will have to take you up on your offer, Laurens, lead the way," He gestured with his hand towards the door as John finished up his coffee. John felt a tiny surge within him as he noticed the light has reignited itself in Alexander's eyes. Hamilton tucked his laptop and papers under his arm and followed John, who was making a beeline for the door. As they past the trashcan, both boys dropped their coffee cups in.

"That went a lot smoother than last time I did that," John joked as him and Alexander stepped out into the street. Alexander laughed, this time more openly than he had in the coffee shop. John decided he really liked the sound of Hamilton's laugh and would try to hear it as often as he could.

They walked down the busy Manhattan street, side by side, a comfortable silence falling over them. It was broken when Alexander turned his head towards Laurens and softly spoke, "Why are you being so nice to me?"

Laurens almost stopped dead in his tracks when those words came out of his mouth, but, to avoid not being trampled by the traffic, he kept pace with Alexander. He focused on his footsteps for a moment, left, right, left, right, while his brain tried to grasp a suitable answer. The fact was, John had no clue. In two short encounters, Alexander had humiliated him and puzzled him, yet he had managed to grip of John's mind and didn't seem to be relinquishing any of his hold. Still fixated on his shoes, John's eyes drifted for a second to Alexander's scuffed loafers. 'Scuffed-shoe boy,' John internally laughed at the nickname he had given Alexander the previous day. He realized, as odd as it may sound, his shoes were the reason he was being so nice to him, but he couldn't exactly say that to him. John also fought the sudden, and surprising, urge to take Alexander's hand in his; just something about the tone of the boy's voice had tugged at John's heartstrings.

"Honestly, I don't know," Laurens decided to reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok few things:  
> -i don't know why i keep talking about shoes?  
> -i can't really find a good way of explaining john's attraction to alexander. it's just, like, one of those love at first sight sort of things, john just hasn't figured the love part out yet.  
> -i know i keep switching back and forth between alexander & hamilton and john & laurens deal with it


	5. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which john takes alexander home with him, just not in /that/ context

"I hope you're okay with walking a bit," John said to Alexander after a few minutes of walking. 

"Hmm?" Alexander had zoned out, staring at the back of the woman walking in front of him. "Oh, yeah, I am fine with walking," Alexander snapped back to reality, processing what John had said. Alexander scoffed to himself, he was more than used to walking, sometimes more than an hour early in the morning and again late at night to get to and from school.

"Okay, good. We could've taken a train, but I don't particularly care for the subway, too crowded," John shook his head at the idea of the subway, a look of distaste on his face. 

Alexander laughed lightly at the boy's words, and laughed harder when he saw the way John's face was all scrunched up. "You're not from here, are you?" Alexander questioned the boy. He could detect a bit of a southern twang in his voice, so Alexander was not surprised when he heard John's answer.

"Is it that obvious?" John grinned sheepishly at Alex. "I'm from South Carolina, actually," John continued so Alexander did not have to ask. "I moved up here for school, been here since last August," John finished.

Alexander jumped on this opportunity and shifted the conversation from their backgrounds to their present lives. "Oh, you go to school here? Where?" Alexander asked, realizing how very little he knew about the boy walking beside him and how little the boy knew about him, and yet here Laurens was taking him to his apartment. He made a mental note to watch out for this overly trusting boy if they continued their friendship. He also said a small prayer on John's behalf giving thanks that he was not a serial killer.

"I go to Columbia, I'm majoring in biology," Alexander noticed how John's eyes lit up a bit at the mention of his major. Passion was a trait in someone Alex had a large appreciation for. 

"I go to Columbia, too!" Alexander bubbled, confirming what John already figured. "I'm about to finish my second year of law school," Alexander excitedly spoke of his future. John nodded, showing his approval. 

"Oh, okay. I'm a junior, not done with my bachelor yet. So I guess you're almost all done with school," John noted their slight age difference.

"Yeah, sorta, but I still have a long road of school ahead of me with law school and all..." Alex trailed off. "So obviously, I want to be a lawyer, what about you?"

"Doctor," John answered plainly. "An orthopedist, actually," he elaborated as to spare Alexander the common follow-up what kind of doctor question. Alexander hummed his approval, nodding his head and contently smiling. 

Eventually, the conversation died out and the boys continued to walk in silence, occasionally commenting on passersby or a particular restaurant they heard was good. Usually, Alexander found silence uncomfortable, but he felt no awkwardness walking quietly with John. It was actually refreshing to not have to try to force a conversation. After a half hour of walking through Manhattan, John lead Alexander into a building, up two flights of stairs, down a halfway, and to the door of his apartment. Fumbling with his keys, John eventually got the door unlocked and ushered Alexander inside. 

"You can sit if you want. I'm going to get some water, want any?" John gestured to his navy blue couch to their left before walking to the kitchen and grabbing a cup from a cabinet.

"No, thank you," Alexander answered, taking a seat on the end of the couch. He looked around the apartment, taking it in. It was a lot nicer than most college freshman in New York City had, Alex thought. The couch he sat on was flanked by two matching chairs and faced a stone fireplace with a large flat screen TV mounted above the mantle. There was a white, wooden coffee table in front of him and a matching couch side table to his left with a very expensive looking lamp sitting on top. To his right, there was built-in seating fit to the corner, it cushions the same navy of the couch. Alexander also noticed more typical things to see in the apartment of a college student, such as textbooks on the coffee table and lecture notes laying on one of the chairs. Alexander leaned back into a fluffy white pillow and stared at a set of photographs of beach scenery hanging on the light gray wall, awaiting John's arrival. 

"You want to take a shower and maybe borrow some clothes?" John asked Alexander as he leaned against the armrest of the opposite end of the couch from where Alexander was sitting. 

"Sure," Alexander hopped up, and John took that as a cue to start leading Alexander towards the bathroom. They walked towards the back of the apartment, John stopping at a small closet to pull out a large green towel for Alexander.

After a few more steps, the boys reached a door, and, pushing it open, John spoke, "The only shower is in the bathroom attached to my bedroom, so this is what this room is." He waved his arm around, gesturing to his room. Alexander didn't even have time to observe the room before John opened another door and said, "This is the bathroom," ushering Alexander inside. "So, um, that's the shower," John pointed to a stand-up shower on the side of the fairly large bathroom. "Or if you want to take a bath, there's the tub. And there's the sinks. And there's the toilet," John pointed to everything in the room as he named them, trying not to sound awkward. "But, I mean, you have eyes, so you already knew all that," John laughed lightly at himself.

"Thank you," Alexander's words were filled with laughter after he had joined in with John as he grabbed the towel from John's outstretched hand.

"Don't sweat it, feel free to use whatever you need," John answered nonchalantly and turned to leave Alexander alone in the bathroom. "Oh, yeah, I'll leave some clothes for you out here sitting on my bed, do you have a class later you have a particular want to look nice for?" John popped his head into the room after almost completely shutting the door.

"No, Tuesday's I have no classes at all," Alexander answered, standing stiffly in the bathroom trying to come to terms with the fact he actually did not know this person at all, and, yet, he was about to get naked in his shower. 

"Wow, lucky!" John exclaimed before closing the door, leaving Alexander alone. He waited for a few moments, listening to John's soft footsteps away from the door. Once he heard the bedroom door be pulled shut, he let out a sigh and turned to face himself in the mirror. Pulling the elastic out of his ponytail and shaking his hair loose, he observed himself in the mirror. His brown eyes were dull, making them look more boring than usual, and accented by large shadows due to his extreme tiredness. He needed to shave and his hair was extremely greasy. Add these things to his stained shirt and wrinkled pants, he looked like someone John could have randomly pulled off a street, and, honestly, he had.

Sitting down on the tiled edge surrounding the large Jacuzzi tub, Alex pulled off his tattered loafers he had found in a second hand store. Actually, now that he thought about it, his entire outfit had been purchased at a second hand store. Standing up, he unbuttoned his shirt, folded it and set it on the edge of the tub where he has just been sitting. Unbuckling his pants and taking them off, he left them beside his shirt. Now in his underwear, he trekked over the the shower, the tile floor cold under his feet. Pulling back the curtain, he turned the water on, turning the faucet almost all the way to the end of the red line that indicated the water temperature - Alex liked hot showers. After waiting a few, what seemed like very long, moments he stuck under the water to make sure it was warm enough, and when the water temperature was at a satisfactory level, stripped off his boxers and stepped inside the shower. Tugging the curtain back into place, he let the water warm his body, and became lost in thought as steam rose around him. 

Now out of the shower with the green towel wrapped around his face, Alexander once again stood in front of the mirror. Reaching a hand out to rub off the fog that had condensed on the mirror, Picking the left, and less crowded of the Jack-and-Jill sinks, Alexander grabbed the razor and shaving cream sitting on counter top among the hair products that littered the space. 'Gotta keep his curls looking good, I guess,' Alex thought. He hoped John wouldn't mind too much if he used his razor, even if it was seriously unsanitary. Spreading the shaving cream onto his face, Alexander carefully ran the razor over his jaw and cheeks, rinsing it off in the sink every few strokes. When he finished, he rinsed the remaining shaving cream and stray hairs off, grabbed his clothes from where they sat, and walked into John's bedroom.

In front of his, a stack of clothes sat on the sheets of John's unmade king sized bed. Alexander decided to put his own underwear back on - the line had to be drawn somewhere, and that's were Alex drew it. Picking up and stepping into the black name brand athletic sweatpants, he took in the airy feeling of the bedroom. The light green walls reflected the light being let in by the four large windows spread out on two walls. The all the furniture in the room was white, along with the aforementioned sheets on the bed. The black and white striped comforter was strewn on one side of the bed and the top of the bed was filled with pillows of various shades of grays and greens. Pops of color were offered in photographs and art hanging on the walls around the room; in fact, the walls of John's room were covered in paintings and framed photos and random wall decor items that looked like they were straight out of a Pottery Barn catalog. Pulling the soft and worn Columbia t-shirt in Columbia's classic blue laid out for him over his head, Alex caught a whiff of vanilla, which he figured was put on the shirt by John's shampoo because he had just used the boy's shampoo in the shower. He walked over to the dresser, and pulled open the drawers until he found the drawer were John kept his underwear and placed the unneeded Calvin Klein boxers on top of many others like them. Alex's eyes rested on a photo setting on the dresser as he knocked the drawer with his hip to close it; it was the only personal picture Alexander had come across in John's apartment. John and four others, two boys and two girls, smiled up at Alex. Everyone picture had some degree of curly hair and the same beaming smile, so Alexander settled on the deduction they were John's siblings. 

After walking back to the bathroom to hang the towel over the rack and make sure his damp hair was decent enough to keep down, Alexander exited John's bedroom and wandered back into the living room area, carrying his clothes, where he found John lounging on the couch, eating pizza from a box that sat on the coffee table, and watching some show on the Discovery channel about the Galapagos Islands. "Everything go okay?" John asked, his mouth full of pizza, as Alex plopped down in the chair not occupied by John's papers. John nudged the pizza box with his foot as a way of offering it to the other boy. 

Alexander lifted a piece from the box, took a quick bite, and answered, "Yes, it did. Thank you. For everything," after swallowing.

"It's really no trouble," John replied. "Actually, I enjoy charity cases," He joked, earning a self-depreciating chuckle from Alexander.

"I'll just finish this pizza, and be on my way back to the place I hang around with all the other unfortunate, down on our luck people, then," Alexander retorted after taking a few more bites.

"Stay as long as you want, no rush," John let his southern hospitality shine through. 

The new friends sat and watched TV, devouring the pizza, for a good thirty minutes until Alex stuffed his last piece of crust into his mouth and rose from where he was rather comfortably seated on John's chair. "I really ought to be going, now," he smiled towards John after picking his clothes up off the ground and started for the door. "Thanks, again," he turned towards John once the boy was beside him and offered his hand. John took it and the boys shook hands. Alexander relished in the touch of the other boy's hand for just a moment, before catching himself and shaking the thoughts of John out of his mind. 

"No problem, Alexander," John said, once again letting Alexander know he hadn't troubled him. 

Alex flashed a quick smile, "I'll return your clothes to you, that's a promise," he told John, with a sincere look in his eyes. Then he turned, opened the door and walked out. "Bye, John."

"Bye, Alexander," John called after him. 

Alexander walked down the hallway, letting his face break into a smile when he heard the door of John's apartment click closed.

Inside his apartment, John's hand lingered on the doorknob as he smiled to himself. He turned and trudged back to his seat on the couch, still warm after being vacated for only a short moment. He shook his head lightly to shake the thoughts of Alexander out of his head, and to shake Alexander's presence from the room. It was almost silly how frequently John found the dark-eyed boy in his thoughts. "You don't even know him," John whispered to himself, sighing. Then he turned his attentions back to his program on the tortoises of the Galapagos and eventually dosed off.


	6. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which alexander gets drunk and chaos ensues

April faded into May as John's life became an endless cycle of studying, eating, sleeping, and studying more as he was thrown head first into final exam season. Occasionally, he made time to watch a movie with Hercules and Marquis or go out to lunch with one of his other friends, but nothing too exciting.

He hadn't seen Hamilton in almost three weeks. It had been three weeks since Alexander was in his apartment during their short interaction, yet John could think of little more. His mind was a shuffle of a playlist that was predominately Alexander and knowledge for finals, among other things.

A little over a week after that day, John came home to find the clothes he lent Alexander sitting neatly folded outside his apartment, with a scrap of notebook paper reading, "I came by to drop these off, but you weren't in, so here. Thanks again. -A. Hamilton" He silently cursed himself for not being home when Alexander had come by, even though he knew there was nothing he could have done. He also cursed himself for not getting the boys number. But, most of all, he cursed himself for becoming so taken with the practical stranger.

-

As exams drew to a close, John decided to throw a small party from a handful of friends as a celebration for exams ending and the school year finishing up. As the lively group interacted, John couldn't help but smile to himself at the way his apartment was lit up with the energy of his friends

"Hey, Johnny, what's this?" John was pulled out of a conversation with Hercules and fellow biology major Theodosia Bartow by the voice of Lafayette calling from the kitchen.

"What's what?" John asked, walking over to Lafayette. "Oh, that," John mumbled when he saw the torn piece of notebook paper that was being held up between Lafayette's index and middle finger. "It's nothing," John replied, setting his beer on the counter and lunging for the scrap.

"Not so fast, explain," Lafayette pulled his arm back, dodging John's darting hand, an amused look on his face.

"I helped this guy out, and he said thanks. That's it. Now give it back," John made one more futile attempt for Alexander's note.

"You wouldn't be squirming this much if it was that was it. Now, is the A. Hamilton that wrote this note the same Hamilton from the coffee shop that day?" Lafayette was having fun now, seeing the shorter boy try to jump and grab the paper, which was in Lafayette's hand safely raised into the air, out of John's reach.

"What did I just hear? Does little John have a special someone?" Mulligan walked over to the kitchen after hearing the commotion. If John hadn't been blushing before, he definitely was now.

"No, I don't," John protested.

"Yes, he does," Lafayette teased at the same time, quickly slipping the note to Mulligan. Profanities sped all through John's mind as held the note out and cleared his throat. Here is comes...

"'I came by to drop these off, but you weren't in, so here. Thanks again. -A. Hamilton'" Hercules read from the paper and instantly started laughing. "Hamilton? Your salty law student acquaintance?" he questioned John, who was now pouting with his arms crossed across his chest and his face bright red.

"Yes, that one. You really do have a way words with Herc," John tried to set his face into a angry scowl at his two friends, but was sure he failed miserably when it just made them laugh harder.

"You know, it really wouldn't be a big deal, but based on your reaction it's a obviously a very big deal," Lafayette smirked at John, who rolled his eyes.

"Yo, Burr, come here," Mulligan called out to Aaron Burr, Theodosia's boyfriend and first year law student, who was perched in one of the navy chairs sipping a beer. When Burr arrived in the kitchen, a quizzical, slightly annoyed, look on his face, Hercules continued, "You're studying law right?"

"That's correct. Why?" Burr leaned on the counter, trying to read the situation.

"Do you know anyone by the name of Hamilton?" Mulligan raised a eyebrow. Beside him, John, wide eyed and red faced, frantically waved his hands and rapidly shook his head to try to stop Burr from talking. However, it was in vain.

"Actually, I do," Burr announced straightening up and laughing at the way John's face fell into a irked frown. "Latino, longish hair, looks tired all the time, doesn't shut up - that Hamilton?" Burr smirked and wiggled his eyebrows at John, who buried his face in his hands, slowly nodding his head.

"So are you actually going to try to explain, or are you just gonna look sorry for yourself?" Lafayette prompted Laurens to tell the story of how the scrap of paper ended up on his kitchen counter.

"I saw Alexander in a coffee shop and he looked like he could use some help, so I brought him here, let him take a shower, and fed him some pizza. I also let him borrow some clothes because his were dirty, so he returned them with the note," John recounted the tale in between lunges and jumps for the note as Marquis, Aaron, and Hercules passed it between themselves; he finally snatched it from Burr's hands and stuffed it into the front pocket of his jeans for safe keeping. He silently prayed the boys would not taunt him too much for the fact that Alexander was naked in his apartment, even it was just in the shower.

"It sounds like John was just being a decent human being," Angelica Schuyler defended John as she made her way over to the kitchen, slide onto a stool at the bar, and rested her elbows on the counter top.

"Yes, exactly! That's all it was," John cried out. "Y'all can all go fuck yourselves," he added for good measure. Not wanting to argue anymore, especially after Angelica put her support with John, the boys in the kitchen dispersed, but not without throwing winks and suspicious smiles John's way.

"That's not all it was, was it?" Angelica asked John once the others had joined the party in the living room, keeping her voice hushed just in case a nosy party-goer wandered over. When John sighed heavily, Angelica's lips crept into a small, knowing smile.

"I don't know what it was, but it was something. It is something. I can't stop thinking about him," John's voice trailed into a whisper as he spoke. "And, I feel incredibly stupid because I don't know him, yet I feel this unbelievable connection to him, you know?" his hands clenched into fists in front of him and then stretched out again as he ran them through his curls as he attempted to communicate what he felt. In the end, he sighed again, soft this time, and leaned against the counter, looking up at Angelica with doe eyes and a meek smile.

"I do know, John," Angelica's smile bloomed into a bright one, lighting up her features. "It's called love at first sight."

-

April faded into May as Alexander's life turned into a existence revolving around finals. He spent almost ever waking hour of the day in a library, pouring over his textbooks. He was taking the final exams for his senior year of college and could not afford to do anything less than ace them; although his GPA was flawless and his achievements on past exams were astounding, Alexander wanted completely, utterly sure his odds of getting into Columbia's School of Law were as close to 1 to 1 as he could get them.

Occasionally, as he laid down on his hard twin mattress in his small room, freely loaned to him by a kind store owner in Washington Heights, to get some well-earned, extremely needed hours of sleep, Alexander let his mind wander, thoughts swirling around his brain like a hurricane. Almost always, the eye of the hurricane was John Laurens, and the thoughts of him that floated Alex's brain. Alex was never able to pinpoint exactly what it was about the boy that calmed the chaos of his mind, he just knew he liked the effect John had. Many late nights, Alex drifted to sleep, with a smile on his face, put there by John's freckles, or curls, or southern drawl, or smile, or laugh, or just about every part of the boy's existence.

Alexander made multiple trips to John's apartment at different times on different days, carrying the loaned clothes under his arm, hoping he would catch John at home. However, his knocks were never answered. Defeated by the new thoughts springing forth in his head that maybe the universe wanted to keep the two boys apart, Alexander settled with scribbling a small note on a piece of paper he tore from his notebook for his Macroeconomic Analysis class, and placing the clothes outside John's door.

"I came by to drop these off, but you weren't in, so here. Thanks again. -A. Hamilton," the note had read, Alexander pleased with the shortness and sweetness portrayed in his rushed hand, which he hand attempted to neaten for John's sake. In reality, Alex could have wrote the boy an essay scrutinizing his feelings; he could have let the words pour out, his thoughts translating onto the paper as an river made of deep lines and churning paragraphs. The only thing holding back him back, acting as a dam to his feelings, was the fact that his feelings were absurd. 'Was it normal to be so entranced by someone you know next to nothing about?' Alexander wondered.

One Wednesday afternoon, Alexander found himself one of many students pouring onto the streets of New York City after the Moral and Political Philosophy final exam. Suddenly, he felt a strong clap on the back of his shoulder, "Hey, Hamilton, wanna go get some drinks?" Alexander looked back to see Thomas Jefferson walking behind him. Thomas slid his arm around Alex's shoulders as they crossed the street and waved his arm behind him to show Alex the other boys that would be there.

"Dude, it's like 4:30," Alexander looked at Jefferson with knitted eyebrows and an amused look on his face.

"We just finished our last final exam! We are free men, my friend!" Jefferson practically shouted, trying to convince Alexander.

"Well, there is still that whole law school thin-" Alexander began to point out matter-of-factually, before Jefferson hushed him loudly.

"Just let it all go, Hamilton," another boy, James Madison, came up and fell in stride on the other side of Alexander. "Why do you always have a stick up your ass, man?" his laughter filled the air. Alexander glared at the sidewalk and held his tongue.

"So where we going, Tom?" George Washington, Alexander's favorite of the group, asked Jefferson. Thomas Jefferson was officially the unofficial group leader, always picking the parties the boys attended or which bars they frequented.

"I was thinking The Bronx," Jefferson deadpanned.

"You've never set foot outside of Manhattan," John Adams, a boy who just rubbed Alexander the wrong way, joked.

"Forget just Manhattan, this man has never been north of 96th street," Madison teased Jefferson about his snobby disposition.

"Adams, you do realize I'm from Virginia," Jefferson spoke to the boy like he was an idiot, giving him a rude look, but he laughed at Madison's comment, playfully punching him on the arm. Alexander simply rolled his eyes.

Fast forward an hour and the six boys, the sixth boy being a small, quiet boy named James Monroe who Alexander didn't really care to get to know, were sitting at the bar of a club in SoHo that Jefferson had chosen. Alexander had allowed the boys to lead him right up to the stool he was currently sitting in, too tired to argue. Alexander and George, the only other non-materialistic one, ordered beers while the others order fancy martinis and cocktails.

Fast forward three hours and Alex was on his second beer, on top of the numerous shots he had taken with Jefferson and Monroe. He did not really have a reason to be drinking, he just was. Each time his head tipped back and alcohol burned down his throat, he felt more and more at peace, more relaxed. That's why he was drinking: to lose hold on reality and just let go. He was tired of being so high strung all the time, so he took another shot.

The nightlife was starting to pick, people streamed in as a band began to play. Alexander watched from his spot at the bar as Jefferson jumped around on the dance floor, a girl on each of his arms and his curly mop of hair bouncing in rhythm. The two James's were also on the dance floor, Monroe with a pretty blonde, and Madison trying, to no avail, to get a girl to let him buy her a drink. Alex hadn't seen John Adams since he walked towards the bathroom with a girl on his hip, so Lord knows what he was doing. Now that he thought about, he didn't know where George had wandered off to either; after scanning the room, he spotted him leaning up against the room's brick wall chatting with a couple of fellow patrons, occasionally sipping his beer.

Alexander slide off the stool to go join George and realized how much his head was pounding; his legs seemed to have a mind of their own and pitched Alexander to the side, right into another man, sending the man's glass of some sort of alcohol to the floor. Alex mumbled a generic apology and was trying to stumble away when the man roughly shoved him in the back, sending Alex careening headfirst into the hard wooden floor. He laid there for a moment, his cheek resting on the wood as the room spun around him. Before he knew what he was doing, letting his anger grip him, he pushed himself up, spun around, and felt his fist make contact with the other man's jaw. "You little bitch," the man sneered, obviously drunk himself. The man's arm coiled back before shooting square into Alexander's nose, a flash of white going across his eyes and his head snapping back when the contact was made. Alexander shook off the pain and lunged at the man, drunk enough to not be thinking rationally, ready to fight to the death, but a few good bystanders jumped in, strategically positioning themselves so the two belligerents could do no more physical harm to one another. Feeling something warm dripping on his face, Alexander brought his hand up to his nose, only to find it was bleeding.

"Nice one, Hamilton," Jefferson called, attracted to the scene by the crowd that had formed. Alexander ignored him, afraid of what might come out of his mouth if he opened it. Instead, he turned and made a beeline for the door. As he half ran, half staggered to the exit, someone grabbed his arm.

"Alexander, stop," Washington tugged on his arm. Alexander forcefully shook him off and pushed his way outside. Alexander wasn't even disappointed when George didn't try to follow him; no one really cared.

Instantly, his face was drench by water. "Of fucking course," Alexander swore aloud. He was drunk, alone, and tired, his nose was bleeding, and now it was raining. Didn't situations like this only happen in movies? He patted his pants for his MetroCard, which, naturally, was missing, and he had no other money on him to get a taxi. As he started his walk back to Washington Heights, which he figured would take about three hours, he held his forearm to his nose in an attempted to slow the bleeding and focused on his footsteps, trying not to wobble. Despite his drunken state, his mind, thankfully, felt clear enough, but his body was a different story.

After an hour and a half of trudging along in the rain, Alexander had had enough. The only bright side was his nose had stopped bleeding, the rain had most likely washed the obvious traces of blood from his face, and the rain had done him a small favor in that it sobered him up slightly and kept him alert enough to not walk into the road or a lamppost. Everything else was negative. The rain had thoroughly soaked all his clothes and caused a chill to settle in his bones; his head was pounding and dazed and his strides were choppy and forced; the rainstorm had progressively morphed into a thunderstorm and every clap of thunder and bolt of lightening caused Alexander to shutter with memories of his past he kept shut away in the far reaches of his brain; and, worst of all, he felt alone. Although he spent much of his time in solitude, he never felt alone; he always had himself, his thoughts, and his writing to keep him company. But now, dragging himself down a New York City sidewalk, he felt utterly isolated, forsaken, lonely, and a million other words that could be applied to the situation. He really had no one in life, and it took him until now to figure it out. At every bench he pasted, he forced himself to continue on, fighting the urge to lie down and sleep forever.

Another lightening flash lit up the sky, and the puddles forming on the sidewalk reflected the light back into Alexander's eyes. Thoughts raced around his mind, mostly thoughts telling him to get off the sidewalk and into anywhere really that offered shelter, but there was no where to go; it was getting late at night and establishments where he may have sought shelter were closing, and the remaining ones most likely didn't want a soaking wet, drunk man hanging around. His hands were now shaking and his heart was racing as an earsplitting crack of thunder sounded. His breathing hitched and tears spilled down his cheeks uncontrollably. He could hear the screams from his memories and he was acutely aware his whole body was shaking now, but he carried on, burning every single ounce of self control he possessed to continue to place one foot in front of another down the sidewalk. He had been dealing with this for a while, and, while he could not stop it from happening, he was becoming pretty good at functioning while it was happening if he needed to keep going. But he knew he needed to get off the street fast before it got unbearable.

Without really thinking about it, Alexander's feet led him to somewhere they must have known he would be welcome. He tried not to trip as he walked up the stairs, the stairs reminding him he was certainly drunk, even if it was only a little. Walking down a long hallway, he came to a door, and began to knock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> classic drunken bar fight, oh alexander... is it realistic for a drunk person to be walking around a city at night and know where they are? also, i decided to add james monroe, even though he wasn't in the musical; i wanted another person for the Law School Fuckboy™ group and added him, so yay. also, i am using Bartow as Theodosia's last name instead of Provost because Bartow was her maiden name, just so no one gets confused.


	7. Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which alex shows up on john's doorstep needing some help

John's day had been spent filling out applications for various summer internships at a collection of hospitals and medical research facilities across the city; he had probably filled out over a dozen applications, wanting to guarantee he would get one. He knew he wouldn't be able to stand sitting around all summer.

John was sprawled out on his couch watching a program on the History Channel about World War II, John loved educational programs, the thunderstorm outside his windows causing him to slightly dozing off when he was startled to reality by a series of rapid knocks on his door. He jumped so badly that his lap desk with applications resting on fell of its place on his stomach, he had been too lazy to set it down, and tumbled to the floor. After quickly picking up the desk and a few of the fallen papers, he trotted over to the door, eager to silence the knocks. To say he was shocked to see the person standing opposite him when he opened the door would be an understatement.

"Oh! Alexander?" John tried to keep his tone from seeming too bewildered, but failed miserably; he also knew his eyes were wide and his eyebrows furrowed. "Oh, Alexander," John said once more, this time his voice filled with pity, after he had taken in the boy's appearance. His soaked hair was plastered to his face and dripping water onto his shoulders; like his hair, his clothes were drenched to the point where they hung heavy on his frame and stuck to his skin; there was dried blood around his nose, which looked slightly broken to John's semi-trained eye, and more evidence of a nosebleed manifested itself in the splatters of blood going down the front of his shirt and the small drops on his shoes; and his eyes were red-rimmed, dismal, and filled with tears that threatened to overflow at any moment. In that moment, John wanted nothing more than to wrap Alexander up in his arms and never let go.

"I'm really sorry," Alexander began, his arms hanging slack at his sides, "I had no where else to go and home was so faraway," he offered John what he intended to be a friendly grin, but it ended up being a heartbreaking smile as a tear slipped down his face.

"It's fine, Alexander, it really is," John tried to assure the boy as he grabbed his arm, pulling him into his apartment and closing the door. "Do you need anything?" John asked as he turned to grab Alexander a towel, after the words escaped his mouth he realized what a stupid question it was - of course he needed something. John tried to walk quickly to the closet and back, not wanting to leave Alexander alone, even it was just for a second.

Alexander hadn't moved a muscle in John's short absence, letting the water drip off him and form small puddles at his feet. "Could I have some water?" Alexander spoke, barely above a whisper as John handed him one towel and laid another on the floor, motioning for Alex to stand on it to soak up the dripping water. John noticed Alexander's balance was slightly off as he swayed a bit and he smelled the alcohol on his breath, and John wondered how much the boy had drank.

"Of course," John smiled warmly and walked to the kitchen to fill up a glass of water. With Alexander's back now to him, he eyed the boy not necessarily suspiciously, but weary nonetheless. He had no clue what his problem was, yet he found himself wanting to know, no matter how burdening it might be. He made a promise with himself to not let Alexander slip through his fingers again. "Here," John handed Alexander the glass of water, who practically threw his head back and chugged the drink. John shot him an amused look and stifled a laugh.

"Sorry," Alexander tentatively flashed a small smile as he placed the cup back into John's hand.

The two boys stood in awkward silence for a few moments before John quickly spun around and placed the cup on the counter and, spinning back around, grabbed Alexander's towel-wrapped arm. "Let's go get you cleaned up," he started to pull Alexander towards the bathroom while holding his arm to make sure he was steady, not really caring what the other boy wanted and, thankfully, Alexander obediently followed.

Now in John's bathroom, a place Alexander was starting to become familiar with, John sat Alexander down on the side of the tub. While John ran a washcloth under warm water to clean the blood off Alexander, Alex took his shoes and socks off, relieved to have his feet out of the pool they had been swimming in. He dumped the excess water out of his shoes into the tub and set them aside to dry. 

"Tell me if this hurts," John knelt down in front of Alexander, a position that almost could have been intimate but neither boy thought anything of it, and went to wipe his nose with the damp cloth, very lightly as to not cause the boy too much pain. John could see bruising starting to form on Alexander's nose and the bridge of the boy's nose was slightly askew. When John made contact, Alexander instantly recoiled, a few tears spilling over and running down his cheeks. "Okay, so it hurts," John couldn't help but chuckle at the unfortunate boy as he dramatically nodded his head. "Do you want to do it?" John asked, offering him the cloth. Alexander simply shook his head. "I'll try to be gentle then," John promised. He brought the washcloth back up to Alexander's nose, noticing how tightly shut Alexander's eyes were and how his knuckles were whitening as he clinched his hands into fists to take the pain.

After one stroke, Alexander pulled his head back, and John was forced to place his empty hand on the back of Alex's head to get the job done. As he went on, removing the dried blood from Alexander's face, John's fingers wove their way throughout Alexander's messy hair. Alexander took notice of course, but said nothing, focusing on the concentrated look on John's face. Alexander also noticed how John's fingers lingered for a stray second after John had finished and set the washcloth down. The boys made eye contact, John's murky hazel eyes searching into Alexander's swirling dark brown ones, trying to find something other than sadness and self-pity.

Thankfully, the storm outside had calmed since Alexander arrived at John's; there was no more lightening and the thunder came sporadically ever several minutes or so. Alexander was able to calm himself down internally, not letting the anxiety spill over anymore, and the shutters at the thunder he was able to pass off as shutters of pain from his nose. He was extremely glad that his nervous breakdowns were not something John had to deal with right now too.

"So are you going to tell me what happened or just leave me hanging?" John said after a moment, deciding he should get Alexander talking.

"I'd rather just not talk about it," Alexander tried to stand up, but John, still kneeling in front of him, pushed him back onto the edge of the bathtub.

"Then, I'll talk for you," John announced. "Your nose looks broken and it obviously bled, so I'm assuming you got punched pretty hard. Your knuckled are slightly discolored, so I'd say you punched back, and you smell like alcohol, so I'm gonna go with bar fight," John offered Hamilton his explanation. Alexander nodded, impressed with John, not realizing until now how smart the boy must be. "Okay, well, bar fights are bad, but it's alright. And I don't need to know how you ended up here, you don't need to tell me if you don't want to," John told him, figuring out pretty quickly that Alexander wasn't in the mood for answering questions.

"I hate to ask but, do you think I could maybe borrow some clothes? Mine are all, well," Alexander used his hands to gesture to his drenched clothing; it was pretty self explanatory why he was asking.

"Of course, Alexander. You don't need to think you are a burden, I really am happy to help. I'm glad you're here," John smiled warmly, but instantly toned it down to just a friendly grin. Thankfully, Alex smiled back, and John swore he saw a rosy tint creep into Alexander's cheeks.

"I just feel really weird about this whole thing because we actually know nothing about each other, yet here I am, in your apartment for the second time asking for clothes..." Alexander trailed off, deciding to not embark on the rant he felt coming. John didn't answer right away, instead standing up and walking the short distance to the bedroom; not wanting to be alone in the bathroom, Alexander followed John, leaning up against the wall and watching as John pulled open various drawers, throwing the items he retrieved from them onto the bed behind him.

"Honestly, Hamilton, stop the whole self-pity thing, I see right through it," John smiled knowingly at the other boy while tossing him the clothes, first a gray t-shirt, then blue pants, and, last, a pair of black socks, which Alex caught between his outstretched fingers, earning an impressed look from John.

"What'd you mean?" Alexander straighten his back and organized the items in his hands, narrowing his eyes at John.

"You're not weak, Alexander, we both know that, so stop pretending to be. You don't need to worry if I will still like you if you are yourself, no matter how stubborn or abrasive you can be. I assure you whatever you throw my way, I can launch back at you," John may have been a little to revealing in his intentions than he meant to be, but he didn't realize what he was saying until the words were already out in the air.

Thankfully Alexander didn't miss a beat, either not noticing how forward John had just been or being pleased by it. "Be carefully what you wish for, Laurens," Alexander retorted, pursing his lips slightly and cocking one eyebrow as if to say "try me."

John laughed and shook his head, picking up on Alexander's very obvious playfulness and wondered if it was the boy flirting with him. "Go get changed, man," John told Alexander, still laughing while pointing to the bathroom. Alexander complied and shut himself in the bathroom, peeling off his soiled garments and tugging on the borrowed ones, taking care not to bump his nose too much with the shirt as he pulled it over his head. Bending over to put the socks on his cold feet, Alexander fully realized that the pants that had been loaned to him were flannel pajama pants; putting two and two together, he felt his face flush, John intended for him to stay for the night. While he highly doubted John had any intentions for the night that would not fall under the platonic category, the fact he was going to sleep in John's apartment made Alexander fidget with his hands anxiously, but Alexander could not suppress the feeling on excitement that rose with the unease.

When he reached down to retrieve his pants and shirt from their position on the hardwood floor of the bedroom, he saw something fall through the air and land with a small click in the place vacated by the clothing. Bending over to pick in up Alexander found it was his elusive MetroCard that he failed to find in his pocket earlier that night. Some higher power was definitely toying with him, Alexander concluded; the only reason he was at John's now was the chain of events that happened after he couldn't find his MetroCard. Then, of course, it decides to makes it grand appearance when he is already stuck at John's for the night. He shot the card an annoyed glare, while silently thanking it for its untimely disappearance, and slipped it into the pocket of the loaned pajama pants, which Alexander was pleased to find had pockets.

John was forced to stifle a giggle as Alexander walked out to join him in front of the TV due to the fact that the ends of the pants Alexander was clad in dragged the floor slightly; John had longer legs than Alexander, their height difference being around three inches, and while it wasn't much, it was enough to make the sight a bit comical. Shooting John a playful glare, Alexander took a seat at the far end of the couch from John. After a while of lazily watching a brainless conspiracy show, John spoke, "Alexander, come here," the command exiting his mouth just barely above a whisper. Something inside Alex was slightly stirred at John uttered those words, though Alexander stuffed the feeling down quickly before he could even think of acting on it. Instead, he scooted down the couch until he was sitting next to John. "Do you want me to try to realign your nose?" John inquired, "It's not that bad, I could do it, I'm sure," he was trying to assure himself as much as he was trying to assure Alexander.

"Sure, Mr. I-wanna-be-a-doctor, fix me right up," Alexander smiled, his tone showed his confidence in John.

"Okay, here, face me," John instructed and Alexander complied. "I'm not gonna tell you this won't hurt because it's gonna hurt like hell," John didn't sugarcoat it as he brought his hands up to the other boy's face, gingerly placing his fingertips on either side of the bridge of Alexander's nose. He was grateful there was minimal swelling, or he would be taking Alex to the ER at the moment instead. John ever so slightly increased the pressure, just to test the other boy's resolve, and instantly there were two tanned hands grasping John's, jerking them away. John scoffed and shook his head, "Hold on to this pillow, it might help," John shoved a pillow into Alexander's hands to keep them occupied.

"If you had just done it quick, there wouldn't be a problem," Alexander practically whined. John chose to ignore him, putting his focus back on the crooked nose. His fingertips found their place on the bridge again, and Alexander's eyes squeezed shut. With one swift movement, John applied ample pressure, hearing the satisfying pop that signified he had done the job correctly. "Fuck!" Alex swore, his fists full of pillow and tears streaking down his cheeks in the same paths that had been forged earlier. "Oh my sweet fuck," Alexander continued to swear, making up different combinations of as many vulgar words he could conjure up.

"My real first patient," John tried not to sound excited. He could only imagine the pain Alexander felt, but at least one of the boys had somewhat enjoyed that. "Bless your heart," John couldn't help but let the Southern expression slip from his mouth, poking fun at Alexander's reaction.

"Don't even," Alexander huffed, quickly wiping away his tears.

"Only joking, Alexander, do calm down," John chuckled at the older boy. They went back to watching TV in silence, side by side. Eventually the throbbing radiating across Alexander's face subsided slightly, and he sunk into the couch a bit, fighting to keep his eyes open and his head off John's shoulder, something he dreadfully wanted to do but shook the thought away because of what the action might entail.

John, noticing his dreariness, broke the silence, and Alexander's earlier realization was confirmed when John said, "I figured you could just sleep here for tonight, I have an extra bedroom, so its no trouble, really. Just tell me when you want to go to sleep and I'll show you to it."

"I think now would be a good time," Alexander smiled through a yawn, it was almost one in the morning after all.

"Come on, then," John stood up, tugging the sleeve of Alexander's t-shirt. John internally patted himself on the back for the choice of the shirt he gave Alex, the boy looked amazing in gray, somehow making it seem like a bright, happy color. After leaning over to turn off the lamp beside the couch, John began to tread to the spare bedroom, Alexander in tow. "Here you go," John flicked on the lights as Alexander entered the room. It was nicely decorated with a deep blue bedspread, the same light gray walls as the apartment, black wooden furniture, and airy white curtains. Alexander turned on a lamp that sat on the night stand and sat down on the bed, his legs hanging over the side, while John shut the blinds and pulled the curtains together to keep out the sun that would try to stream into the room come morning time. As he began to walk out of the room, John spoke to Alexander, "You can sleep as long as you want, don't think you need to be up and out of here at the crack of dawn."

"Wait, John," Alexander called out before he knew what he was doing as John's finger lingered over the light switch. What Alex said next, he can only think to blame on the slight high he was still riding from his alcohol consumption, "Do I make you feel the same way that you make me feel?" he asked his eyes finding John's widening ones as he spun around the face Alexander. John, who looked absolutely lost for words, could only manage a short, quick nod that was almost impossible to catch.

"Alexander, I-" John started, not really knowing what he was going to say.

"No, I'm sorry, that was weird. We don't have to talk about it," Alexander felt like banging his head against the wall repeatedly at his stupidity. The poor boy hadn't picked up on John's nod, so he was thinking he had thrown himself over a cliff to see if he would fly only to get shot down. Before he registered what John was doing, he was at his side, sitting on the bed, his hand over Alexander's.

"You do, Alexander," John's were simple, but they made Alexander go crazy inside, his cheeks heating up, and his heart thumping against his rib cage. Outside, his body relaxed, shoulders falling, and he let out a breathy sigh. "All I know is that I have to have you in my life. I don't understand it, but its the only thought my mind can focus on," John continued, seeing the reaction his previous words had on the boy.

"The feeling is mutual," Alexander's face broke out into a smile, observing the way John's freckles now stood out against his flushed face. The two boy's shared a sweet moment, learning the depths of each other's eyes, Hamilton's thin, long fingers still in the grasp of Laurens' strong ones. Letting the moment wash over him, John leaned over, his other hand finding a place on Alexander's thigh, as he pressed his lips to the boy's temple, deciding it was a more suitable place than the older boy's lips at the current time. When he pulled away he found Alexander regarding him with a surprised look on his face, his lips slightly parted and his eyes resembling that of a young fawn. Their faces were only a few inches apart, Alexander could feel John's hot, shaking breath on his face as John cast his eyes down, only slightly embarrassed more just waiting for Alexander to make the next move.

Alexander pulled his unoccupied hand up to John's curls, running his fingers through them until he reached the boy's jawline; placing his forefinger on the soft underside of John's chin, he pushed his face up until they were making eye contact again, John's soft hazel eyes full of hope. "Thank you," Alexander whispered, using the two short words to encompass everything John had done since they met, Alexander even grateful for the coffee incident that had ruined his favorite shirt.

John matched the grin Alexander was flashing at him, "Sleep well, Alexander," he tore himself away, deciding in that moment that he did not want to have to leave Alexander at night instead of climbing into bed beside him again, longing to fall asleep holding the boy's hand and feeling his body warm against his.

"You too," Alexander returned softly as John turned out the lights with a flick of his fingers and shut the door quietly. Once alone, Alexander fell heavily back onto the bed, his chest moving up and down rapidly as his heart fluttered. Crawling under the covers and turning off the lamp, he beamed at the ceiling in the darkness, reliving the past moments in his mind, burning them into his memory. He wanted to know everything about John. He wanted to know about his childhood and his family and South Carolina. He wanted to know how John liked his coffee and what his favorite genre of book was. He wanted to know how to make John laugh until his stomach hurt and what to say if John needed to be calmed down or cheered up. He wanted to know how John's voice sounded first thing in the morning. But, also, he wanted to know more physical things too. He wanted to know how John's lips felt on his and how he tasted. He wanted to memorize every inch of his body and find all the little sensitive places that would make John's stomach flutter when he kissed them. He wanted to count every freckle on John's face and trace every small, blue vein running down his arms and hands.

And Alexander couldn't wait to get start checking things off the list he was making in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so it begins (;;;  
> also, i am taking a creative license with things such as their ages and their heights so just go along with it.


	8. Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which alexander wakes up at john's place and we meet usnavi

Alexander woke up in the unfamiliar bed, noting how much better he slept on its soft mattress than his at home, which was practically a rock compared to this one. His head was only pounding a little, better than what he though it would be. Rolling out of bed, he drew back the curtains and raised the blinds, the bright sunlight streaming in caused him to squint and making his headache worsen. The storm of the previous night had given way to a beautiful spring day. Down on the street, cars crawled by as bicycles wove their way between them. On the sidewalks, men and women hurried to work, and teenagers carrying backpacks and coffee cups strolled to school. Judging by the commotion below him, he figured it was a little past eight in the morning.

Not wanting to be the first one awake, Alexander pressed his ear against the white, wooden door listening for any little noise that would signify John was also awake. After a few moments, Alex heard clanging of pans in the kitchen, so it was safe for him to emerge from the bedroom. He quickly rubbed his eyes and pulled his hair into a ponytail, checking himself in the mirror hanging over the dresser, deeming his reflection acceptable, except for the bruises that had formed under his eyes as side effects of his broken nose. Rolling the waistband of his borrowed pajama pants to make them fit a bit better so John wouldn't laugh, he opened the door and walked to the kitchen. He slid into a stool at the kitchen bar counter.

"Good morning!" John chirped, stirring a bowl of what Alexander believed to be pancake batter.

"Morning," Alex replied, attempting to match John's positive tone. Of course John was a morning person.

"Sleep well?" John smiled, setting the bowl down and spraying non-stick spray into a pan. Alexander nodded, smiling back; he rested his chin on his hands and watched John begin to pour batter into the pan, which was now on the burner. The stove top was directly in front on the breakfast bar, so the two boys were facing one another. "Head hurt?" John smirked knowingly, flipping a pancake. When Alex nodded, a defeated look on his face, John reached to his left to grab a bottle of painkillers from where he had set them earlier that morning knowing that Alexander would most likely need them. He reached up and set them on the breakfast bar, hitting the bottle so it would slide to Alex. "There's cups in the cabinet," he moved his head to point out the cabinet, flipping another pancake, "if you need some water to take those," he continued.

"Thank you," Alexander twisted the cap open and shook two little, blue pills onto his palm. He walked into the kitchen, found the cabinet, pulled out a cup, walked to the sink to fill it with water, popped the pills into his mouth, and swallowed them with some water.

"These will be ready in like a minute," John told Alexander as he walked over and leaned on the counter beside the cooking boy.

"I'll get out some plates, where are those?" Alexander decided he wants to be helpful and getting out plates is the least he could do to lend a hand.

"Cabinet to the right of the cup cabinet," John replied, flipping the last pancake. Alexander wandered over and pulled two white ceramic plates from the cabinet and set them next to the matching plate that currently held a large stack of pancakes. "Take whatever you want," John said to him, setting out syrup and turning his attention to cutting up a few strawberries he had taken out of the fridge. Alexander poked three pancakes with a fork, transferring them to his plate and went on to drown them in syrup. He retook his seat on one of the stools and a few moments later John joined him, setting a glass of water in front of him and offering some cut up berries, which Alex took.

"Holy crap, these are really good," Alexander exclaimed after shoving a bite into his mouth.

"Thanks," John laughed at him. "It's my grandmother's special secret Southern recipe," he winked at Alex, earning a laugh in return. The boys ate the rest of breakfast in relative silence, the conversation from the previous night an elephant in the room. Alexander honestly didn't think it was that big of a deal, so he didn't bring it up. John, on the other hand, was a little embarrassed he had kissed Alexander's face, so he didn't bring it up. Both boys were afraid of what might come out of their mouths if it was brought up, as they both tried to wrap their heads around the feelings that had struck their hearts in such a short amount of time.

After a good fifteen minutes, both boys had finished and John was rinsing the plates off in the sink, putting them, along with the bowl and utensils used to make the pancakes, into the dishwasher. Alexander was in the bathroom, changing back into his own clothes, which John had washed and dried before he went to sleep the previous night. He walked out, his shoes in his hands, and sat on the couch to put them on. "Oh yeah," John began from the kitchen, making his way over to Alexander. "Let me see your nose, I almost forgot about it."

"It's fine, I think. Just a little hard to breathe out of," Alexander stated his opinion of the state of his nose.

"Well, the swelling isn't too bad, so that's good," John said now sitting beside Alex on the couch, his hand on Alexander's chin to turn the boy's head in different directions to view all angles of his nose, but really he could see it fine from the front, he just wanted to touch Alexander in some way. "It is bruised pretty badly and you have two black eyes because of it, but it seems straight," John continued, trying to use a doctor voice.

"Thanks to you," Alexander pointed out, smiling.

"Yeah, I guess so," John laughed a little, his cheeks turning a slight pink. "Anyways, you'll be fine."

"So I'm not gonna die?" he deadpanned with a smirk.

John laughed harder this time and shook his head, "No, you won't die."

"Good because there's a million things I haven't done," Alexander laughed too, tying his shoes. "I guess I should probably get going now," he said standing up.

"You sure?" John stood up too, following Hamilton to the door. "We could go and get coffee or something if you want," he offered, not wanting to be without the boy's company just yet.

"No, I really should get home, I have work to do," as much as Alexander wanted to say yes, he had to say no.

"Are your finals not over?" John had a quizzical look on his face.

"They are, I just need to finish up an application for an internship with one of the congressmen who's office is here in Manhattan," Alexander explained.

"Oh, well, that sounds important, I won't keep you then," John stepped out from in front of the door, so Alexander could leave.

"Thank you, for everything, John," Alexander's voice was full of sincerity as he gave him a gracious smile, wondering if it would be a good idea to hug him or not.

"It's no problem, truly," John said, reaching out to touch his arm, noticing how Alexander leaned into his touch. "Oh yeah!" John exclaimed, breaking up the moment the boys were having. "Before you go, put your number into my phone," he pulled his phone out from his pocket, bring up the screen for Alexander to type is information into.

Alexander took the phone, staring at the screen for a second, his thumbs hovering over the keyboard before saying, "I don't actually have a cell phone, but I'll put a number in that you can reach me from," he began to type it in.

"Oh okay," John was shocked he didn't have a cell phone. How did he live?

"It's the phone number for the store I live above. The owner's name is Usnavi, he's a good guy, just tell him you want to talk to me and he'll get me," Alexander finished typing, he turned the phone off and handed it back to its owner.

"Gotcha," John nodded once, slipping his phone back into his pocket, proud of himself that he hadn't stuttered at all while asking Alexander for his number. "I'll call ya," John promised as Alex opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

"Already looking forward to it," Alexander grinned and winked. John laughed before exchanging parting words with Alex and shutting the door.

Now alone, he plopped down on his couch, turned on the TV, and pulled out his phone to call Lafayette, who answered after two rings. "Hey, John."

"Hey, Marquis. You'll never believe what just happened," John gushed.

"If I'll never guess, why even say that. Just tell me," Laf sounded bored.

"You're no fun. Alexander showed up at my place late last night soaking wet and asked if I could help him out," John told the boy on the other line the story.

"Do you believe in fate because I sure do," he sounded a lot more interested in the conversation now.

"And so I gave him some dry clothes and let him stay the night in my spare bedroom," John continued.

"You did WHAT?!" Lafayette exclaimed. "He spent the freaking night?"

"Yes, chill, he just left," John said nonchalantly.

"I know you are freaking out right now, stop playing it off," Lafayette knew his friend too well.

"Okay, you're right, I think I'm going to die!" John let his words flow out, the elation in his voice evident.

"Invite him to go out with Hercules and us tomorrow night," Laf suggested.

"No, I'd really rather not," John protested.

"I want to meet him, and, stop lying to yourself, you know you wanna," Marquis tried to persuade his friend.

"Fine," John didn't really put up much a fight, but still tried to sound annoyed.

"Great, I'm going to tell Herc the news now, bye Johnny!" Lafayette promptly hung up.

John stared at his phone for a moment before locking it and setting it down, shaking his head at his friend; Marquis had an uncanny ability to make everything about himself. Grabbing his lap desk and a pen, he set about finishing those applications so he could mail them out later that day.

-

It was late afternoon when John got back to his apartment after an excursion to drop his letters off at the post office and to grab a sandwich from the small corner deli on his street. With school finished for the term and no work to do, John was amazed at how utterly bored he was; he usually always had some paper or some studying to throw himself into, but now it was just him and his thoughts. His thoughts of Alexander, if we are being specific here.

John passed another half hour sprawled out on his couch scrolling though his social media timelines and playing mindless games. He ended up just staring at the ceiling, a loud sigh escaping his lips. Deciding the apartment was much too quiet, he jumped up and located his Bluetooth speaker on the counter top to sync his phone up. Shuffling his playlist, he grabbed the novel he was currently reading and curled up on a chair to try to kill his boredom with words. His plan was working until the first chords of Something by the Beatles filled the room.

Something in the way she moves, attracts me like no other lover.

Almost instantly, John's brain was thrown into a whirlwind. He was almost mad at himself at the way Alexander popped into his head as the word 'lover' was sung. Now unable to focus on his book, he shut it in a huff and tossed it onto the coffee table then relaxed back into the chair with a frustrated sigh.

Somewhere in her smile she knows, that I don't need no other lover.

Having this schoolgirl crush on Hamilton was infuriating; he couldn't remember the last time he fell so hard for someone. He wanted nothing more than for Alexander to be there now, their lips crushing together, bodies moving in time with the song. It was actually so annoying, hell, Alexander was so annoying. It wasn't fair, he had John wrapped around his finger, and he didn't even need to try. He was highly rude to him, John couldn't get him out of his mind. He magically appeared at the same coffee place as John looking like a street rat, offering him a feeble excuse, John practically fell in love right then. He was in his apartment, leaving much too quickly, John heart struck in his wake. But it wasn't until the previous night, when Alexander has showed up at his door, broken, that John has realized how his deep his feelings for the boy ran.

You're asking me will my love grow? I don't know, I don't know. You stick around and it may show, I don't know, I don't know.

'Of course my love will grow, it grows every freaking second,' John's brain answered George Harrison. His fingers tapped to the beat on the armrest of the chair, his teeth biting lightly on his bottom lip.

I don't want to leave her now, you know I believe and how.

By the end of the song, John was already across the room, grabbing his phone and turning off the music. Pulling up Alexander's contact information, he pressed the little icon that initiated a call to the store the boy lived above. "Oh, shoot," John said aloud, forgetting his phone was still hooked up to the speaker until ringing began to echo throughout his apartment. He quickly hung up, the phone only getting one full ring in. After disconnecting the speaker, he pressed the call button again, hoping the second time was the charm.

"Hello?" a voice on the other end answered.

"Hi, is this Usnavi?" John inquired, using his most polite voice.

"Uh, yeah, who's this?" it was now Usnavi's turn to ask a question.

"It's John Laurens. Al-" he began before he was cut off.

"Oh! John, of course. Hi! I assume you want me to get Alexander, right?" Usnavi's voice had livened up considerably, and John figured he was probably smirking. Evidently Alexander had been talking about him, and John felt his face flush a little at this.

"Yeah, if you could," John replied.

"Hold on, I've gotta go get him. Don't hang up," Usnavi told him. John heard a soft clatter as the phone was sat down. "Yo, Sonny, watch the register real quick. And don't touch the phone," John heard Usnavi yell to someone else in the store.

John set his phone down on the counter, staring at it, tapping his foot while he waited. He listened carefully for any sign of noise that would signify Alexander's arrival. After a few minutes, he heard voices over the line. He picked the phone back up just in time to hear Alexander say, "Hey, John."

"Hey!" John said, slightly overly excited. His heart quickened just a tad at the sound of Alex's voice.

"What's up?" Alexander asked John. John heard Usnavi teasing Alexander in the background. "Man, go away," Alexander said to Usnavi, his voice slightly muffled because he was holding his hand over the phone.

"I was actually wondering if you wanted to go out for a few drinks with two of my good friends and me tomorrow night," John spit the question out, surprised at the confidence in his voice.

"I see that smile, man!" John faintly heard Usnavi yell. Alexander wouldn't have known John had heard, but John's giggle gave him away.

"Aw, shoot, you heard that?" Alexander would have grumbled the question if John's laugh hadn't been so infectious.

"Yeah," John admitted. "So is that a yes?" John asked, hopeful.

"Of course it's a yes," Alexander's few simple words lit John on fire with excitement, his heart beating faster still. "When and where?" John could now hear Alexander's smile in his voice. He hoped it was one of those smiles that made his eyes light up and crinkle at the corners.

"Just come to my apartment at 5:00 tomorrow afternoon, I mean showing up at my apartment is something you're good at. If you take the A line and get of at 86th street, its only a short walk to my apartment from there," John slipped a tease into the information.

"Very funny," Alexander laughed a little at himself. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then," he drew the conversation to a close.

"Yeah, sounds good. Bye, Alexander," John said into the phone.

"See ya, John," Alex spoke before hanging up.

John wandered back to his couch, his phone in his hand, before falling onto it in a daze. He threw his arms up into the air to as if he were proclaiming victory, and brought them down again. He unlocked his phone to shoot a quick text to Marquis.

To Lafayette: hey, he's coming tomorrow

John received his reply within a few seconds.

From Lafayette: YAY! can't wait to meet him!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, the store owner is usnavi. i couldn't help myself.
> 
> also, Something by the Beatles is a GREAT song (it came on while i was writing so i added it) if you haven't heard it before (1) what are you doing with your life? and (2) go listen to it right now.
> 
> please put up with my stupid references like the "there's a million things i haven't done" that alexander said in this chapter im a loser and i think it's funny


	9. Part 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which the boys go out and john gets alex drunk...chaos ensues

The train Alexander was currently go on could not go any slower. As he started out the window, Manhattan whizzing by, he willed it to go faster. He was 20 minutes into the half hour ride that would take him to the stop nearest John's apartment. His foot tapped on the floor and he dropped his head to return to reading the book he was reading about the creation of the American political parties. Drowning himself in the text, he passed the last ten minutes, trying not focus on the anxious butterflies beginning to form in the pit of his stomach.

Now Alexander was on the sidewalk, dodging people was he wove his was through the Upper West Side to his destination. He made it without anything eventful happening; it was just another Friday evening on the busy streets of the Big Apple, and he was just another random face in the scheme of things.

Finally making his was into the building, up the stairs, and down the hallway, he paused at John's door. Alexander stood there for a few moments, composing himself. He tugged at the hem of his classic Oxford shirt to make sure it was straightened out and pushed the rolled up sleeves back into perfect position just above his elbows. He quickly ran a hand through his hair, which he was wearing down for the night, to smooth it out. He shook his hands to get the jitters out and took a deep breathe, and then he knocked three times on the door, and waited. Hearing footsteps on the other side of the door getting louder and louder, Alexander gulped in a breathe of air and held it. He slapped a smile onto his face as the door swung open.

"Hi, Alexander," John beamed at him, stepping out of the way to let the other boy pass.

"Hey," Alexander hadn't realized he was still holding his breathe until then.

"Okay so, we are meeting Hercules and Marquis at the restaurant at 6:00 so we probably need to leave at like 5:30, which gives us exactly 27 minutes," John got right down to business. "I have to go get dressed and stuff, so just make yourself at home," he continued, motioning to his sweatpants and hoodie.

"Who are Hercules and Marquis?" Alexander wondered aloud, testing out the odd names on his tongue. John must have some pretty interesting friends if they are anything like their names.

"Trust me, you'll see," John foreshadowed, a smirk playing on his lips. He then disappeared into his bedroom, leaving Alexander to his own devices. He took his satchel - satchel not man purse - off from over his shoulder and took a seat on John's blue couch, which he had to admit was growing on him even though it was still very ugly. Taking his book out and finding his page, he began to read again, the book resting on his dark jeans and his back hunched over.

Time went by, Alexander's nose buried in his book, until he was interrupted by John. "Hey, Alex, which one should I wear?" John walked out of his room and into the light where Alexander could see him better. Alexander tried his best to ignore the fact that John had just called him 'Alex' because why should he even care? "This one?" John shook the hanger of the shirt in his right hand, a burgundy Henley, "Or this one?" John moved the shirt in his left hand, a simple black crew t-shirt with a pocket on the breast.

"Black one," Alexander said, pausing for a moment to pretend he was sizing up both options. In reality, he had decided he wanted to see John in the black one the moment he brought them out because he had a strong hunch that John looked hot in black.

"Thanks!" John chirped, spinning on his heels and going back into his bedroom. A few minutes later, John emerged again, dressed in the shirt and light wash jeans. Alexander was one hundred percent right, by the way. After checking the watch on his wrist, John spoke up, "Well we still have like ten minutes, so we can just chill for a little." He plopped down on the couch beside Alex, his curls bouncing as he did so.

After "chilling," which entailed Alexander reading silently and John absentmindedly flipping through the latest edition of his favorite medical journal while each boy was stealing fleeting glances at the other, John rose and announced it was time to go.

-

"So, where are we even going?" Alexander turned to ask John as they sat side by side on a train. Even though John still hated the subway, he knew it would have been extremely tedious to make the trip downtown in a taxi on a Friday night at a peak travel time.

"Some place near Midtown, don't really now much about it really except it's name and its address. Marquis picked it," John admitted.

"Is there anything I should know about Marquis and Hercules just as some good background information?" Hamilton inquired. He wanted to make sure he made a good impression in John's friends.

"Marquis is a firecracker and one of the funniest people I've ever met, but he's also a genius at reading people and always knows the right thing to do. Hercules is a flirt, with anyone and everyone; he might seem a little intimidating, he got that air about him, but he's the biggest softie in the world. He's also extremely thoughtful and well-spoken if you get him talking about the right thing. The two of them fight a lot, they're basically like brothers, just ignore it if they start hurling insults," John did his best to sum up his two closest friends in a few short sentences. Alexander nodded thoughtfully, instantly committing it all to memory. He hoped he would be around long enough to get to come up with his own narratives of the two boys. "Their apartment is actually right next to mine. They were both already downtown today indulging in various pursuits, so that's why we couldn't have all left together," John furthered his explanation.

"They sound fun. I'm sure if you're friends with them they're great people," the corners of Alexander's lips tugged into a small grin.

"Oh, stop, you flatter me," John picked up on the small compliment that had been paid his way. He swatted the air in front of him, feigning modesty. Alexander laughed lightly and rolled his eyes at the younger boy.

-

"We're a few minutes early, so they might not be here yet," John informed Alex as the two boys walked into the restaurant, John holding the door open for Alexander. The restaurant was rustic, gorgeous original brick walls and open ceiling beams being the focal points, and filled with sturdy wooden tables and roomy booths, most of which were already taken up by customers. "Reservation for Lafayette. I'm John Laurens, I should be on the list," John told the hostess manning the check in.

"I.D., please," the woman said, looking up from the computer long enough to greet the two boys with an ultra warm, entirely forced, smile. Alexander raised his eyebrows at this, but John was unfazed and already reaching into his pocket when the request was posed. Pulling out a leather wallet and retrieving his Columbia student I.D. from its folds, John flashed it to the hostess, who scrutinized it for a moment, then nodded, as smiled again, more genuine this time. "Thank you, Mr. Laurens. And I assume this is your guest?" she gestured towards Alexander, who straightened his back as the attention was put on him. When John nodded, the hostess requested they follow her, and led them to a nice booth for four in the far left corner of the large room. "Your waiter will be with you shortly to take your drink orders," she let the two boys know before returning to her post at the entrance.

The boys sat down in the booth, Alexander first and John next to him. The leather seats were extremely comfortable and sank under their weight. They did not even have time to strike up a conversation before a sweet looking light skinned girl with curly hair pulled away from her face was at their table saying, "Good evening, I'm your waitress, Maria. Can I start you off with some drinks?" with a pleasant smile.

"I'll just have a water, please," Alexander told her, returning the smile.

"I'll have a sweet tea," John said. "And we also have two more people joining us, so is it alright if I just order for them?" John inquired and then continued when Maria nodded, "Okay, then a root beer and an unsweetened tea, please."

"Gotcha, I'll be back with those shortly," Maria jotted the orders down and then left to go check on a couple sitting a few tables away.

"I'll have a sweet tea," Alexander mocked John once they were alone, applying an overly thick Southern drawl to his voice.

"Not appreciated," John turned to glare at him, but it was impossible to keep a straight face when he saw the goofy grin on Alexander's face. John dissolved into laughter, making sure to keep it quiet as to not disturb the other patrons of the restaurant. Alexander chuckled along with him. Suddenly John's laughter stopped and his face broke out into a wide smile directed towards the door where two boys had just checked in and were now being lead towards John and Alexander's table. One boy followed directly on the heels of the hostess and seemed to bounce with every step he took while the other remained a few paces behind, his steps slow and deliberate. The first boy slid into the booth ending up across from Alex and the other sat down across from John.

"Hey, y'all!" John greeted his friends.

"Hey, y'all!" Alexander mimicked him again under his breathe so only John could hear. Alexander earned a small kick to his lower leg from John.

"Hi, Johnny," Lafayette answered and John silently cursed him for using the nickname. "This must be Alexander," he turned his attentions to the boy sitting across from him and stuck is hand out over the table, "I'm Marquis de Lafayette."

"Enchanté," Alexander took the boy's hand and shook it, assuming from the name that he know at least a little French.

Lafayette's dark eyes lit up and he squealed a little, "Oooo, a French speaker! John, I approve." Alexander smiled, delighted to have won Marquis over so easily as John's cheeks flushed at Lafayette's last comment. He shot Laf a glare as if to say 'No more comments about me liking Alexander.'

"Please, do not get him going," the other boy implored, humor on his smooth voice. "I'm Hercules Mulligan, pleasure to meet you," he reached his hand across the table and shook Alexander's firmly.

"Pleasures all mine," Alexander said back politely. As the other three boys began gossiping about their friends, Alexander took the time to observe the two he had just met. Lafayette had caramel skin and long lanky limbs and Alexander had yet to see him without an infectious grin on his face; his hair, which seemed to be extremely curly, was pulled back into a sleek bun. Hercules, on the other hand, had smooth dark skin and short cropped hair; he was a very muscular man, but he had kind eyes.

"So, Alexander, you go to Columbia?" Lafayette pulled him into the conversation with a question.

Alex took a sip of his water — Maria had brought the drinks a few minutes before — and nodded, "I just finished up my second year of law school at Columbia. I've already done four years of and Economics major and philosophy minor," Alexander told his new friends.

"Oh dang, we got a big shot over here!" Hercules joked. Alexander's cheeks reddened and he laughed lightly, looking down, giving Hercules times to slip a wink to John. Hercules got the same glare from John that Marquis had just received.

"Just trying my best to do something with my life," Alexander said, trying to be extremely modest and not arrogant, as he can sometimes come across as. "How about you guys? What do you study?" Alexander turned the question upon Mulligan and Lafayette.

"I'm a Political Science major and I am minoring in French and Francophone studies. I hope to be some sort of ambassador to France for the United States Department of State one day," Lafayette announced, smiling brightly as he mentioned his goal.

"And, I am majoring in theater," Hercules stated. "Maybe you'll hear of me winning Tony's one day," he winked again, this time at Alexander.

"So, basically, we are all going to be very rich and successful people," John pointed out, raising his glass for a fake toast, and the boys tapped their glasses together.

An hour passed and the four were happily enjoying each other's company, Alexander ecstatic that he was getting on so well with John's friends. Everyone at the table was finishing up their meals, Alex stuffing his last fry into his mouth, while John paid the bill; the three boys had a system worked out where they rotated paying for meals, and now Alexander had been accepted into the routine.

"So, where are we going next, Laf?" John asked as they stood up and prepared to exit.

"Downstairs," Marquis smirked and began to walk, the others falling into step behind him.

Lafayette led them to a set of stairs that was hidden in a little nook of the restaurant. As they descended, Alexander could sense a shift in the energy around him. It gradually got darker and popular indie music found its way to his ears. This new venue was decorated much like the formal restaurant above, simple but charming, but this room was accented by a large bar, people dancing in small clumps, and a smell of beer. Hercules got down to business right away, taking a seat by a pretty redhead on one end of the bar; Lafayette chuckled at this and followed him, taking a seat one down from Herc. "To keep an eye on him," Laf had said before slinking off, leaving Hamilton and Laurens alone.

"Buy me a drink?" Alexander asked John, coyly.

"Of course," John's lips tugged into a teasing smile, leading the way to the bar. "Two Sam Adams, please," he told the bartender, who got to work right away filling up two mugs with the tap. Grabbing the drinks from the man behind the bar, John walked with Alexander to a high table against the wall. Sitting in the high chair, John set the beers on the table, Alexander grabbing his and taking a sip.

"You know, the whole point of you coming out with me tonight was for me to get to know you better, and I still only know your name," John cut right to the chase, watching Alexander's roam the room, obviously not wanting to make eye contact with John.

"Get me drunk and I'll tell you whatever you want to know," Alexander shrugged.

"I'm being serious," John told the older boy firmly, setting his lips into a hard line. He hoped Alexander wouldn't see past his fake annoyance.

"At least let me finish this beer, and then you have to buy me another," Alexander negotiated slyly.

"Deal."

-

Three hours later, Alexander was about two swallows away from finishing his fifth beer, while John had finished two and hadn't gone back for a third.

"Wait, so you really don't have a middle name?" John asked in disbelief, his eyes wide.

"No, isn't that depressing?" Alexander said back. "If I had one, I'd want it to be like Thaddeus or something," he giggled at the way John's nose crinkled up at the name he had chosen. "What's wrong with Thaddeus?" he demanded.

"Nothing, Alex," John laughed at the boy, who was very obviously getting very obviously drunk. "So, where are you from? You never told me," John saw a pained look flash over Alexander's eyes, the alcohol not enough to keep bad memories at bay in Alexander's mind. John could see the walls going up between him and Alexander, walls he thought he had torn down with the beer and flirting he had been throwing Alex's way all night. Alex downed the last of his beer, looking slightly more relaxed as the mug made contact with the table.

"Nevis, in the West Indies. And I also lived in St. Croix," Alexander told John, a blank look on his face and in his eyes.

"That's really cool!" John replied enthusiastically. Alexander lifted his shoulders to his ears in a over exaggerated shrug.

"My turn!" Alexander practically shouted, the hardships that had momentarily flooded his brain gone in an instant. "Can I count all your freckles?" Alexander asked, his voice dead serious.

John couldn't help but laugh, practically cackling at the question. "Maybe one day," he smirked at Alex, who's face lit up with a excited smile, much like the one a five-year-old gets when being offered a cookie.

This went on for some time, the boys asking questions of each other. John's more personal, like questions about family (Alexander had one brother, also a seemingly touchy subject) and questions like his favorite color (green) and his favorite food (cashews). Alexander's questions he was asking of John were stupid ones, accompanied with laughs as they exited the tipsy boy's mouth. Alex had just asked John if he would rather live on the planet Mars or the planet Jupiter and why when Lafayette came over and leaned up against their table. "Just wanted to inform you that I am leaving and Hercules left about an hour ago with some random girl, per usual," he said to John, narrowing his eyes at the way Alexander was basically eye fucking John and the fact that John was oblivious.

"Okay, have fun or whatever," John replied to Laf, quickly flashing him a smile before turning all his attention back to the boy across the table from him.

"You're not gonna come with me?" Marquis raised his eyebrows at John. "John, dude, its like almost 1 am," Lafayette told him, his voice laced with humor, after John has given him a look that had said 'obviously no, go away.'

"Oh, shit, really?" John snapped back into focus. He noticed the way Lafayette wearily regarded the seven mugs taking up most of the room on the table and added, "Five of those were him," pointing at Alex, who drunkenly grinned and waved even though Marquis was about three feet away from him.

"You should get him home," Lafayette advised, cracking up.

"Yeah, good idea," John slid out of his chair and stepped over to Alexander. Taking his arm, he pulled Alexander down to the ground, putting a secure arm around his waist when the boy's feet made contact with the floor; John wasn't sure how unsteady Alex would be, but he didn't want to take any chances. "We're leaving," John told Alexander, who only nodded in response, spending his energy on moving his legs to keep with John's pace.

The set of stairs that brought them directly up to the street without going through the restaurant were a bit of a struggle, John lugging Alexander up them like he was a heavy suitcase not a human being, but, all in all, they got out of the bar without much difficulty. Now on the sidewalk, a faintly cold early May breeze flowing around them, Marquis hailed a taxi for himself, telling John he would leave him alone with Alex in their own taxi; to which John replied that it wasn't like he was going to fuck Alexander in a taxi and Laf simply shrugged, climbing in his awaiting cab and speeding off.

John hailed a taxi, holding tightly to the shorter boy as he heavily leaned into John. He helped Alex into the taxi before getting in himself, telling his address to the driver, who nodded and took off. In a minute or two, Alexander's head found its way to John's shoulder and his eyes were drooping, threatening to close in sleep. "Where're we going?" Alex mumbled into John's shirt.

"To my apartment," John answered softly. He felt Alex's breathing slow as he dozed off. Deciding Alexander wouldn't know the difference because he was now asleep, John slipped his arm around the boy to draw him closer, taking satisfaction in the way their bodies were now pressed together.

The ride couldn't have gone by quicker, John wanting to stay in that moment for as long as possible. He shook Alexander awake, receiving a groan from the boy for doing so, and paid the taxi driver, thanking him for his service. Helping Alex out of the cab, the boys, one walking the other being dragged, started to make their way to the building's door. Soon, John gave up and swung Alexander up into his arms, holding him bridal style, and began to walk before Alexander protested. In fact, he did not protest, only hummed with approval and pressed his face into John's chest, mouth slightly ajar and eyes closed he was back asleep by the time John reached the lobby of his building.

Thankfully, the elevator in John's building, which had been broken for the past week, was finally fixed earlier that day, and John was now standing in it, Alex in his arms, going up to his floor. Alexander was sleeping lightly and was awoken by the ding and sliding of doors that signified the elevator had reached its destination. "John, put me down," he mumbled, slightly slurred into John's shirt.

"This is easier," John answered hoisting Alexander up to reposition him before walking down the hallway, the real reason he did not want to put him down on the tip of his tongue, but not spoken. In truth, he relished Alexander's touch and his warmth against his chest, and was not ready to face the cold yet. John figured Alexander did not want down anyways, if he did he would try to wiggle his way out. Skillfully unlocking his door with the hand underneath Alexander's legs, he opened his door and plodded over to his couch. "At least you're small," John teased, placing Alexander on the couch.

"I'm not small!" Alex argued, his voiced muffled by the cushion of the couch that his face was now pressed in. John laughed at him and rolled him over so he was looking at the ceiling. He pulled off his shoes, those same scuffed shoes, and set them on the floor.

"You wanna sleep here or the guest bedroom?" John asked, standing over him, his arms akimbo. John watched as a smirk formed on Alexander's lips.

"Is your bedroom an option?" Alexander tried to wink but closed both of his eyes on accident, making him look plain goofy.

"You're drunk," John shook his head, deciding not to take anything that might come out of the boy's lips seriously. He bent down and picked Alexander back up, choosing the bedroom for him.

"You're pretty," Alex whispered while looking up into John's eyes, a stupid, dreamy look on his face, his words slurred to the point where the 'r' in pretty sounded like a 'w.'

"Drunk as fuck," John concluded, not able to ignore the fact that his cheeks were heating up. Alexander, who was still studying John's face, must have noticed as well, for John saw a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. "You don't throw up when you're drunk, do you?" John steered the conversation in a different direction, pushing the door to the extra bedroom open and flicking on the lights with his elbow.

"Nah," Alex shook his head as John sat him on the bed.

"Thank goodness," John sighed in relief. "You just wanna sleep in your clothes?" he inquired, pulling the covers of the bed back and patting the bed, motioning for Alexander to lie down. Alexander didn't answer, but he eagerly complied with climbing under the covers, so John took that as a yes. When John turned to walk away, he felt a hand grasp his wrist, and he was tugged back to the bed with such force that he fell onto it, now sitting so that he was facing Alexander. "Alex, what?" John scanned the other boy's face trying to find his intentions somewhere in his features.

"Laurens, I like you a lot."

Before John could say anything, one hand was on his back pushing him forward and another in his curls. He closed his eyes, his subconscious knowing what was about to happen before John really registered it. John tensed as he felt Alexander's lips press against his, but soon relaxed into the kiss when the hand in his hair moved down to rest lightly on his cheek. He knew he should pull away, Alexander wasn't in his right mind and would surely regret this in the morning, but he didn't. Instead, he tangled his fingers in the boy's dark hair and let Alexander take the lead. A few moments later, John snapped back into reality when his brain registered the taste of alcohol off of Alexander's lips. He pulled away, putting his hands on Hamilton's chest to keep him at bay.

"Alexander, you're drunk, go to sleep," he said, a little too firmly, noticing how Alex's ruddy cheeks fell from the grin they were in.

"John, I mean it," Alexander whispered, trying take John's hands in his, but the younger boy yanked them away.

"So do I," John pushed off the bed and strode to the door, leaving Alexander in a sunken, confused state. "Goodnight," he offered the boy, pulling the door shut before waiting for his answer. His face was hot as he made his way to his own bedroom. His heart was threatening to beat out of his chest, overwhelmingly happy at what had just transpired. In contrast, his brain was flooded with emotions, few of them cheery. It only took one stupid drunken mistake to ruin something forever, and John believed he had just allowed Alexander to make it. Now it would be awkward between them, for sure. Unbearably awkward. In the morning, when Alex remembered what he did, he would most likely be so embarrassed he wouldn't be able to face John. John assumed Alexander didn't mean to say it or kiss him and that it was just the alcohol taking control. Friends don't kiss friends. Was that what John and Alexander even were? Friends? To John it seemed their relationship had completely skipped over the "just friends" boat and went straight into the one labelled "it's complicated." Was that even a healthy thing to do?

John couldn't care less, anymore. Honestly, he just wanted to stop thinking, so he forced himself to relax and begin to doze off. However, some thoughts are impossible to fend off and he fell asleep praying to some higher power that maybe, just maybe, Alex really had meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yooooo sorry this kinda sucks its a weird chapter idk but they kissed so thats cool or whatever also like theres like no detail really its sorta plain my mind has been elsewhere this week. also that reference (you know which one) was really lame im sorry it fit really good


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